


One Step

by Avery72



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Gen, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3663897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery72/pseuds/Avery72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin suffers a traumatic spinal cord injury that leaves him paralyzed from the waist down. Galahad doesn’t let Merlin give up.</p><p>Another of my headcanons explaining why Merlin no longer on active field duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step

Galahad and Merlin are running for their lives. They cover their heads with their arms, bend low, and run as fast as they can through the forest. Bullets are whizzing past them, splaying dirt and tree particulates all over the place. They ignore the burning in their lungs and the pain building in their tired muscles.

But Galahad and Merlin are not running fast enough. The military compound they infiltrated, and are now fleeing from, begins to unload its supply of heavy artillery. Their aim is not very good, but it improves with each shell that they fire.

A shell explodes tens of meters away from them and they’re thrown to the ground by the vibrations.

Merlin scrambles to his feet and takes off running. His eyes lock on the horizon and he approximates the distance left to safety.

400 meters…

375 meters…

Galahad is still a little dazed from the impact as he follows Merlin. He trips on a fallen tree branch, stumbles, and falls into a small ditch.

“Merlin!”

Merlin stops dead in his tracks and scans the area behind him for Galahad. He panics and loses his concentration for the barest fraction of a second.

That’s all the advantage their enemy needs.

A bullet finds a home in Merlin’s spine, right above his hips. Merlin’s legs collapse from under him and he can’t feel anything below the waist. Galahad’s eyes widen in horror as he sees Merlin go down.

“Galahad!” Merlin roars. “Galahad, I can’t feel my legs.”

\---

Merlin sits in the corner of the drawing room, looking out the window at the other agents running laps around the track. Before he can stop himself, he is crying. He doesn’t care if anyone catches him; he figures it can’t be worse than the pitiful glances they already make at him when they think he’s not looking. It isn’t like it could be worse than the mournful whispers they use when they talk about him, as if he isn’t aware that they’re talking about him.

Merlin is angry, regretful, and confused.

He massages the pain his knees from their lack of use. “If I’m going to be paralyzed,” he grumbles to himself through his tears, “at least fate could have made it so I don’t feel pain.”

But it’s not just the pain in his knees that Merlin is referring to. He wishes he didn’t feel the pain in his heart from the fact that his career as a Kingsman agent is over just as quickly as it was to begin. He wishes he didn’t resent Galahad, his one and only friend, for being responsible for his injury.

Galahad enters the drawing room and stands behind Merlin. He places a hand on his friend’s shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. “Merlin,” he says softly, apologetically.

Merlin wipes the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, but refuses to turn and look at Galahad.

“I spoke with Arthur,” Galahad says. “He says that you will not be discharged from Kingsman. He has made a special position for you as tactical support.”

Merlin scoffs, but doesn’t respond. _Tactical support_? He thinks to himself. _What in the bloody hell does that even mean? My new job is to give constant directions to agents as they do the work I should be doing?_

“Merlin, this is good news.”

“Thanks,” Merlin responds flatly.

Galahad glances at the plate of food, untouched, on the table. “Not hungry?”

Merlin doesn’t respond.

“Did you at least try to eat a little bit?”

Merlin doesn’t respond.

Galahad sighs. “Merlin, for fucks sake look at me.”

Merlin turns his head and angrily glares at Galahad. His eyes are red for all the crying and have sunken into his face. He has dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. His face is deathly pale. “Just fucking leave me alone,” Merlin says barely above a whisper. “I don’t need your pity.”

Merlin struggles to get his wheelchair to pivot. But he swats Galahad’s hands away when he tries to help him. After a few jerky attempts, Merlin manages to wheel himself out of the drawing room.

\---

Part of the agreement for Merlin staying at Kingsman is that he must attend physical therapy. But Merlin’s heart isn’t in it; he shows up and does the bare minimum of what is asked for him. He becomes very easily irritated and more isolated.

“There’s a very slim chance he can walk again,” the doctor says when Galahad comes to check up on Merlin.

“How slim?”

“About the same probability as being struck by lightning twice.”

Galahad’s lips pull into a tight frown.

“And even if he’s that lucky, he will have a limp for the rest of his life.”

“Thanks, Doctor.”

The doctor gives Galahad a curt nod and walks away, leaving Galahad to his thoughts.

\---

Galahad lingers in the doorway of the barracks, watching Merlin’s chest rise and fall with each breath. He’s already late for his self-imposed early-morning training session.

 _I have to help Merlin_ , Galahad thinks to himself. _He is my best friend. If I don’t help him now, no one ever will._

Galahad scoops Merlin into his arms bridal style.

“Harry!” Merlin grumbles. He has always been a light sleeper. “Harry, what are you doing?”

Galahad doesn’t respond and carries Merlin outside to the track. He repositions Merlin so that Merlin’s arms are wrapped around his neck, Merlin’s chest is pressed against his back, and Merlin’s feet are dragging along the floor.

“You’re going to walk again,” Galahad says as he takes a few steps forward. “Merlin, you are going to walk again. I promise it.”

Merlin doesn’t respond.

“Come on,” Galahad pleads. “Make an effort.”

Merlin remains limp.

Galahad, refusing to give up, drags Merlin behind him for the next two hours.

\---

Galahad spends all his free time dragging Merlin around. It doesn’t matter to him if it’s day or night, if it’s sunny or rainy. It doesn’t matter if he had just returned from a mission and should be resting.

The other agents cross their arms over their chests and shake their heads at the sight of Galahad dragging a limp Merlin everywhere he goes. They believe that Galahad’s efforts are futile, that the love between brothers alone would not save Merlin.

“I don’t care how long it takes! Little by little, you will walk again!”

“Please, leave me alone.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Galahad folds his arms over his chest.

Merlin sighs. He knows that particular pout, the one Galahad makes when he’s absolutely convinced in his ways that nothing, not even the apocalypse, would change his mind.

“I don’t want to be dragged around anymore,” Merlin says. “Please, leave me alone.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you are my brother. Because I love you. Because it’s easier for you to hate me than it is for me to not love you.”

\---

For the first time in five months, Galahad wakes up in an empty barracks. Panic sweeps through Galahad as he scans the room, looking for Merlin. Merlin’s wheelchair is still next to his bed. He jumps out of bed and pulls on his siren suit as quickly as he can.

The door opens and Merlin is standing in the doorway, two steaming mugs of tea in his hands. Merlin offers a weak smile to Galahad and very, very slowly stumbles his way over to the bed nearest the door. Galahad moves to help Merlin walk to his bed, but Merlin shakes his head.

It takes approximately 20 minutes for Merlin to make his way back to his bunk. He hands Galahad a mug and Galahad is at a complete loss for words.

“It took me a bloody hour to get down the stairs alone, but I managed it,” Merlin says as he plops himself onto the edge of the bed and takes a sip of his tea. “Sorry it’s only half a cup; if I filled it up any higher I would have spilled all over the place.”

Galahad is staring at Merlin, his mouth agape. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but it’s definitely the best feeling in the world. _This is the best day of my life_ , Galahad thinks. _This is incredible._

“Close your mouth. You are not a crawfish.”

“You’re walking… on your own.”

Merlin shrugs. “As much as I love the feeling of your arse, I got tired of being dragged around.” He smiles at Galahad. “Thank you, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”


End file.
